First for Culture in Wales

If ever there was a gig to make you think of its wider context – of the issues that the very event brings up, of how one evening can form a microcosm of a section of a music scene – it would and should be Priests’ debut UK show.

Although Priests have far from shied away from politics in their creations, they have been vocally critical of such an easy label to dub them with. It is blatant that they can be deemed such, but then other bands that do not fit the same musical aesthetic, rarely have this aspect of their music so persistently highlighted. Perhaps it is then worthwhile noting the other politics at play at such a gig: the ways in which the bands interact with the audience, the divides within the audience, how the bands respond to each other and how crowd members respond to band members .

It’s easy enough to start recognising people at small DIY gigs in Cardiff and this is testament to the consistently excellent bands that DIY promoters book here; case in point, own noise and The Joy Collective’s line-up this evening of Towel and WaLL to support Washington four-piece, Priests. When a group of new faces turn up to a show, it’s all very exciting and somewhat intriguing but there is also something of the unknown – you can’t be sure how unified the crowd will be in its principles of action and reaction. Perhaps with larger gigs, this idea isn’t so obvious – of course people will conduct themselves differently – but the smaller gigs feel somewhat safer. You can go, knowing largely what to expect from the other people in the crowd around you. This isn’t relevant solely because of the genre of bands playing tonight, but that is a factor. Punk/post-punk and its sub-genres tend to be proud of its ethos and certainly hinges on specific principles.

What is overwhelmingly clear about Towel is how delighted they are to be doing this together. They’re having fun together, they’re a joy to behold and their collective humour shines through for the duration of their performance. Destruction is their aim and I was going to attempt to say something “witty” about distraction being their game (by which I mean they’ll grasp your attention from pretty much anything else) but their game is likely destruction too. And it’s great. Laughter filters through the cacophony of drums, fairground-esque keyboard and vocals in a number of their songs. They pair this with a chaotic conviction in what they’re doing: making and performing music that seems to act as an extension of their friendship, knitting together a force of targeted, wit-driven disdain. This same disdain can also translate into delight though, as we see when classic chant ‘Tinder Surprise’ becomes for one night only (or possibly multiple nights; who am I to know?) Corbyn Surprise, and the shouts of “left! Left! Left!” transform from swipes of rejection to celebratory cheers.

Towel are not the only ones to celebrate Corbyn’s appointment as new Labour leader. WaLL too begin their set dedicating a song to Jeremy Corbyn and Bernie Sanders. WaLL are quite the promising act. They are not far from maturing from angst into exciting, unadulterated insight into social issues. As yet their sound comes across as something of a collage of influences – Fugazi, Hole, The Slits – but it’s certainly a strong basis on which to develop, and, paired with the courage of their convictions, they’ll soon be a force to be reckoned with. Their skill leaves little to be desired – easily they transition from melodic to discordant and their performance is always ready to complement their sound, whether it be brooding into the microphone or leaping across the space. The vocalist’s command of the audience is refreshing as, before they even began, the tall people are asked to move to allow others to better see. Setting a fundamental basis of respect and awareness of others is a fantastic move on their part – one that adheres to my understanding of contemporary punk ethos, and one which I can only wish will become more commonplace in time.

As something of an aside, certain behaviours during Priests’ set then struck me as out of place. It’s not that I hate fun but my facial expression likely betrayed me when a select few started crowd-surfing in a crowd too small to really support it and in which few others seemed comfortable with it. In the divide of back-patters vs. eye-rollers in the crowd, maybe the odd congratulatory back-pat made it worthwhile, but, if you allow me to be entirely figurative here, eye-rolls speak louder. Oh, and maybe I also just hate fun – who knows.

If I had not just declared my hatred of fun – they call me killjoy – I would herein wax lyrical on how enjoyable Priests are in every facet. Luckily for me, there is so much more to Priests. They perform with a passion that could almost be alarming, for you are soon to realise that this band have really outdone themselves on stage presence and energy, filling the space beyond its containment. That’s not to say that they refuse to hold back – they mark contrasts in melody and tumultuousness to faultless effect. ‘Doctor’ fantastically showcases the band’s signature lyrical wit, immediacy and the structural integrity of their instrumentation with all its vexed thrust.

Vocalist, Katie Greer – also of Chain and the Gang – makes point of endorsing the other bands on the line-up before the end of their set, paying particularly high praise to one of Towel’s final songs, deeming it one of the greatest things they’d heard of late. While thanking support groups is nothing out of the ordinary, this level of advocation is exemplary of the respect by which we hold one another up (and I don’t mean crowd-surfing) out of admiration.

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Fifteen years ago, a group of well-meaning types formed a band and called it The Chap, which may or may not have been an homage to the gentleman’s publication of the same name. A convoy of top quality albums, tours for their passionate fanbase and some inspired group photoshoots later, the band are about to release their sixth studio album ‘The Show Must Go’.

They’re not giving a huge amount away about it, other than the political-rock nature of its output; but given their innate playful irony, it’s hard to know whether or not this is actually the case. We caught up with Keith Duncan, he of the drums, and asked him some things.

Hi Keith. How are you and how are The Chap?

I’m good thanks! I just had lunch. Meat potatoes and cabbage. Cabbage is criminally underrated. I’m not sure what the others ate, but we’re very excited to be “back”.

The first teaser from ‘The Show Must Go’ is ‘Jammer’; a song with vocals but no actual words. A strange choice, even for you?

Yeah, for a few years now we’ve been talking about our upcoming political-rock album, so we wanted to start with how we feel about political rock. Jammer is a German word for “whining” or “wailing”, which is what most political rock sounds like to us.

Was there any link between the music and the video (featuring a spot of mechanophilia) or was it just something you thought was fitting?

Ah, that was Panos’ idea, so I’m not sure exactly what he was thinking. But I like to think it’s a metaphor for political rock in general, as in, it’s fun and looks good, but doesn’t achieve anything.

There have been several references in your updates about the fact that you’re too old for constant touring. Is it something you miss? Do you find that playing less regularly makes the fans more eager to catch you?

Touring is awesome. After a week or so of touring, you forget all your real-life problems. You go to sleep every night, having achieved all your objectives, and you know that tomorrow, you’ll do the same again. So there’s none of this lying-in-bed-worrying shit. On the other hand, there’s hardly any sleeping.

For the last five years or so, we were pretty much playing the same super-tight, ultra-polished set. Now we’re playing almost the entire new album and a sprinkling of old hits. So I’m hoping we’ll bring back some of the chaos and horror (“how does this song start?” “what the fuck is the next line??”) from the old innocent days. As a fan myself, I’m eager to see and experience this!

The members of The Chap are spread across Europe for the most part. Did that cause any strains in writing and recording ‘The Show Must Go’?

Logistically it wasn’t really a big deal. Sometimes we would fly over to each other (between London and Berlin, which is like getting the bus down the road nowadays) to get work done, and sometimes we would work separately.

Politically it’s been weird, having a Greek and 2 Germans in the band, especially this year, and all of us having grown up within the “European Project”, it’s been profoundly depressing. Obviously we predicted all of this mess years ago (Well Done Europe from 2010) but that doesn’t make it taste any better.

We were hoping we could at least exploit the situation with getting better press, but it seems this week Greeks are out of favour and you need at least one Syrian in the band to get written up…

There’s a lot ‘side projects too’ outside of the band. Who is currently doing what?
Panos has been running Migro Records since 2011, releasing top-notch avant garde stuff, including his collaboration with Jennifer Walshe. Johannes moved back to Germany a few years ago and started a solo project called Erfolg (German for “success”) which quickly turned into Erfolg und Der Beste Damenchor Aller Zeiten (“Success and the greatest Ladies Choir of all time”).

And somehow I ended up joining the ladies choir even though I’m not really a lady and after living in Berlin for over 6 years, my German is still atrocious. But my accent is pretty good, as is my falsetto, and I haven’t seen many ladies choirs that couldn’t be improved by a bearded man.

To my knowledge, it’s been 6 years since your last Cardiff date. Are you excited about returning, with your chum Pete Um in tow?

Six years? Ooops, sorry about that. Yeah, we’re excited to be back in Cardiff, especially playing Clwb Ifor Bach. I remember seeing that name in tour listings when I was a kid. I hope it lives up to my expectations! It’s always a massive honour to play with Pete. I’m hoping he’s going to spend his fee from the show on upgrading his Soundcloud account so he can finish uploading his back catalogue.

The Chap will be visiting (and indeed playing at) Clwb Ifor Bach on Mon 19th October with support from prince of the avant-garde, Pete Um and local newcomers Hollow Mask. Tickets are available from Spillers Records or via the Clwb website. Given their track record thus far, they won’t be playing here again until 2021, so this is a pretty fine opportunity.

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Disconcerting as it may be, there’s certainly something arresting, focus-intensifying about seeing an artist for what you know will be the last time. Whilst farewell tours can sometimes be trotted out, phoned in celebrations, when we heard that Owen Pallett would be no longer touring his stunning solo material, I was on call to tell as many people as possible to go, because he is not someone you want to miss.

He revealed earlier in the year that he feels no need to tour after this year. “I had a wonderful moment last March when I realised that I didn’t want to play the violin onstage any more”.

“2015 is my last year of touring, it’s extremely liberating.”

Liberating for him, it should create a thoughtful cynosure for you – this is the last chance, buddy.

First time I saw him, was in the smaller but no less hallowed surroundings of The Gate in Roath, 6 summers ago. A relative newcomer to his work (I pretty much just got giddy at This Is the Dream of Win & Regine), it was an astounding set. Touring as ‘Final Fantasy’ then, until he had to change his name due to the same named game (so much competition between singular Violin looping artists and Japanese Role Playing Games), he captivated a open mouthed audience – most people sat cross-legged on the floor, watching his beautiful, intricate, dissonant, playful, singular, neo-classic songs cascade ideas upon us.

There can’t be many more contemporary artists of a similar ilk who’s heads seem to bubble up quite so many stunningly original ideas. That the gig in The Gate ended with him playing in the car park opposite to a hushed crowd in the dark did make it more special, but somehow his music has a force of it’s own that lifts gigs into the ‘special’ category, regardless of the undoubtedly beautiful, simple experience of hearing him there.

Since then, he’s made several stunning albums of even more experimental, maximalist orchestrated LPs. Maturing from the intensely personal work before, Heartland was narratively cryptic, with random, allusive and ellusive references to a character called ‘Lewis’ appearing beneath sparingly but beautifully embellished electronic sounds atop his orchestral ideas. Illustrious & grand, but it never stood still in your ears – it felt like a stunning, constantly changing intricate puzzle box that you might find in a Guillermo del Toro movie – never to be solved, always to enchant you.

Last years In Conflict is the zenith of his work so far though. Stripping away much of the grand visions or pretences, it is plaintively direct and more openly ‘confessional’ (I use apostrophes as it does feel a little too Red-Top describing any work of art as such). Whether through ‘The Passions’ hazily orchestrated violins complementing the simplistic, thoughtful pianos and directly told relationship tales or the rousing, almost rock-y, by turns cacophonic ‘Riverbed’, Pallet’s neo-classic ear and intense originality is set upon a kind of ‘pop’ with no mediating pose.

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As my stomach rumbles disturbingly, excitement surges through me, for I read the upset stomach brewing up a storm inside me to be no more than an anticipatory foreshadowing of We Were Promised Jetpacks’ tempestuous gig to come that very evening.

Across their three albums, We Were Promised Jetpacks have persisted with their thunderous fall-back sound to such an extent that it seems almost too easy a comparison to make. There are moments when I listen to them wondering if they could even be a ‘concept band’ – that they’ve listened to the likes of ‘A Wind’s Poem’ and thought to extend that one concept as their entire sound. Whether or not this is true, to do otherwise than parallel them to a climate of storms would likely elude their central themes.

In the midst of the crowd, the venue feels intensely muggy and close. It could be the layout of The Exchange, or it could be that I like to run away with conceits, but as the band gather on the stage they seem to loom overhead and the tightly-packed audience below bump up against one another with the electric atmosphere readying us for the first strike.

Whipping their way through their set, they are everything we have come to expect from the band: the cacophonous, crashing of drums and onslaught of instrumentally-led outbursts, while vocalist Adam Thompson’s eternally soothing tones tease and lull us. Even as he roars over the cyclone surrounding him, there remains an aspect of tenderness. They provide us with little by way of interaction, preferring to uphold a brooding front. However, on a number of occasions the bassist – he who is surely the essential undercurrent of such a sound – lets an expression of sheer joy break through and dapple across his face.

Songs from the first album are certainly those that have the audience crowd at our most raucous, but then familiarity always is a crowd-pleaser. In fact, the distinction between the material from the three albums is largely imperceptible, yet they have mastered a formula that does wonders forthem, so they are not to be resented for continuing down the same vein.

Apt as ever, they finish on the tumultuous ‘It’s Thunder And It’s Lightning’. We crash and tumble our way through the calm of its build, craving that final perfect storm from which we surface, a-buzz and drenched in vapours of sweat and delight.

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Recently, I e-mailed author Richard Owain Roberts whose debut book All The Places We Lived is out on Parthian later this month (Amazon link $$$: http://www.amazon.co.uk/All-The-Places-We-Lived/dp/1910409650), asking if he would talk to me about his perspective on the personal brand and creativity – two subjects on which Richard has a lot to say. What follows is the unedited e-mail thread.

—— MT > RO ——

Rich,

You asked me about brand building the other day. It got me thinking about the blog that we’re doing at Small Joys. One of the things that I was hoping to do was to publish some transcripts of e-mails threads that I’ve had with interesting people. Would you be interested? If you agree, I’ll publish everything from the start of this e-mail until it gets boring for us. Kind of an e-mail interview or something more useful to use e-mail for.

Are you interested?

I’m interested in what branding means to you as an author. I mean, is that what you’d even label yourself? What is a Richard Owain Roberts?

Feel free to sell yourself. We believe in advertising as long as it betters the person being sold to in some way.

Cheers,

M

—— ROR > MT ——

i am interested

should i start now, or do you want to start a new thread?

—— MT > ROR ——

Let’s carry on in this one.

—— ROR > MT ——

i would say i’m a person. i’ve got a book coming out on the first of may. i’m writing another book. i’m writing another book. i’m doing 2 x other projects. i would say i’m a person who is writing books and trying to make things.

i read on facebook recently re an author who was complaining about not getting enough attention for their work. this sounds like ‘an author’. i didn’t relate to that. either be happy with what an outdated model can give you or make your own attention, i suppose.

branding is important because if you expect people to buy your products then i think it’s right that the product doesn’t end with the book or film or whatever. for example, kanye made yeezus and it’s maybe half an hour long; but there’s probably 3-4 hours worth of video interviews he did around the time it came out. and these were the interviews where he went in and said what was on his mind rather than giving generic answers re what were your influences when making this album etc etc. this feeds back into the music and then back out again. this seems very relevant to me.

there is an impression maybe that branding is somehow disingenuous, i know a lot of people just hate the word because of associations to business culture. i think, maybe in 2010, some people heard a contestant on the apprentice use the phrase ‘personal brand’ and it made them angry. instead of being angry, they should have enjoyed it. the business jerk was entertaining them on a fictional programme. in 2014 someone on twitter got very angry because i referred to ‘my brand’. this was in 2014: four years after the business jerk on the apprentice. this is funny to me. i favourited and retweeted him. it’s okay.

branding is about honesty. or it doesn’t have to be. everything in my book is real, one way or another.

this isn’t to say that some people aren’t being disingenuous, although most of the time, if they are, this is reflected in an uninteresting product or nondescript brand.

—— ROR > MT ——

rather than a fictional programme, the apprentice is probably better described as ‘fiction’ lol

—— ROR > MT ——

the idea of striving to impress anyone (i suppose traditional gatekeepers in whatever industry for example) or acting ‘political’ in terms of being careful about what you say / attempting to manipulate people, seems very outdated. if you have confidence in what you’re making, and how you present your brand, i think everything will be okay. brand is way less cynical than pretending to be everyone’s friend.

—— MT > ROR ——

I have so much stuff to say about what you wrote in your last messages. It’s hard to know where to start. I think what I really want to say is:

Kanye comes across as a real weirdo, right? But I think that’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s really good at what he does as his primary outlet for creative work. But what interests me specifically is that he has blurred the boundaries between Kanye the rapper, the artist, the personality and also as Kanye the fashion designer. I like that about him. Do you think that’s the new mode?

—— ROR > MT ——

i think kanye, to me, comes across as being a very honest person. i think he’s doing what a lot of people are doing to be honest, in terms of not limiting himself, but he’s doing it to a large audience, some of whom are ready to listen. when he talks about designing uniforms for cities, designing buildings, i appreciate that. for example, in cardiff we have a couple of brilliant buildings, maybe some more on the way, but i still see a lot of generic new builds going up. as a young capital city we have the advantage of having no current reputation internationally. someone else might choose to see that as a negative (truly a boring, defeatist opinion) – it’s a positive though because it means we have a blank canvas to create something incredible. but we still have over-ground car parks, and we’re still putting up office/residential blocks that look a decade old already. every single piece of new architecture should be the boldest statement of individualism, within an overriding city narrative. we should be building a city that looks like 2115. and this is possible. go to sci-arc or the rdafa and give someone a chance to make something awesome for us.

—— ROR > MT ——

if you feel like you can make something, anything, you should work on it and then do it. i think that’s what kanye is doing. it’s pretty simple and it’s sad that people make fun of him for it.

—— ROR > MT ——

you put a post up on facebook about the revamped morgan(?) arcade creative spaces and how it was now being pushed as ‘a lot like london’ with a ‘fairly soho vibe’. i mean, that is the worst branding i can imagine. it’s also a dated ghetto mentality being spoon fed to people who who earnestly read the western mail and don’t know better.

the merger of a load of universities no one had heard of internationally to make USW was good. i think some people lost their jobs but that’s okay if you believe in collectivism or are a perfectionist. if you want to make a product that is interesting or exciting, i think disappointing/angering other people is inevitable – but that’s their decision to be angry or disappointed, it shouldn’t effect the creative person’s approach to their work

—— ROR > MT ——

have you watched the movie ‘jobs’ with ashton kutcher as steve jobs? i suppose it’s a boring film for maybe 70% but i’d recommend it to anyone who has an interest in what hard work and genuine commitment to a brand is

—— MT > ROR ——

One of the interesting things that has happened since we last spoke is that there was some discussion over Twitter/Facebook/elsewhere about DIY culture. For example, I mentioned that I’d been with someone who had applied for funding to do a thing that she could have done with her phone for free. And her main concern was that if she did it on her phone, there wouldn’t be a high production value.

That really annoyed me because 1) It seems dumb and 2) It’s such a cop out.

What’s your view on DIY stuff?

—— ROR > MT ——

the idea of ‘high production values’ seems cringeworthy somehow. mark duplass did a talk at sxsw that felt relevant to this point. i’d encourage people to google it.

‘high production values’ in films: you could watch ‘the theory of everything’ and it probably conforms to what ‘high production values’ means in a traditional sense, but i can’t imagine what anyone could possibly get out of it on an emotional level. read the wikipedia page on stephen hawking or something.

diy seems like a better way of approaching things. you can learn editing on youtube, you can learn any technical skill on youtube. what mark duplass is saying is relevant: there are no barriers to telling stories.

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The modest honour exhibited by a solid-sounding support band is a long reliable harbinger of a great show to come. The Marble Factory tonight is no exception. Cowtown take to the stage to showcase their tightly skewed sound. Their songs have a definite urgency to them, although they later joke that their nerves are speeding up their songs four times over. An air of fear, delight and eventually victory vaporises around them – an unsurprisingly confused cocktail considering the magnificent spectacle to follow them: Deerhoof.

As they first hit upon our senses, the sheer love of the crowd for tonight’s main act becomes immediately apparent. Across the front of the stage, they adopt almost a line formation as if to portray upfront the elements forming Deerhoof – each band member takes their songs to manipulate out different shapes but, without exception, they all tessellate perfectly.

They begin their set with ‘Exit Only’ and ‘Paradise Girls’ from their latest release, La Isla Bonita. Satomi Matsuzaki’s deliverance of these songs grasps us with its deconstructedness – her style seems at first disarmingly uncluttered but it is consistently impressive and exercises an odd complexity.

Something almost geometrical emerges from their sound. While their songs feed off an enigmatic genius, there remains something of an abstract structure to crafting something that is so satisfying, we are putty in their hands. The shapes into which we mould are nothing compared to Matsuzaki’s superlative dance moves, which correspond so as to be surely written into the songs themselves.

So overwhelmingly brilliant is this set that we are owed something of an interlude and, yet again, they deliver as drummer Greg Saunier takes to Matsuzaki’s mic:
“Each night I stand up and start striding toward the microphone. I hear Ed start to giggle in my ear as I’m passing by. And today in Bristol on, whatever day it currently is… Feb Two Three, it’s the first time that I’ve ever worked up the courage to face Ed and say “Ed, what is so funny?” and at last I’ve discovered either the truth, or what he’s telling me to spare my feelings, which is Everything. Everything is funny. Whether he meant it or not suddenly I found a quiet moment inside my own mental experience that I agree 100%.”
This monologue is delivered with such perfect timing and artistry however that really there is no let-up on that overwhelming brilliance. We are simply more infatuated and ever more eager for whatever it is they decide to next subject us to.

Whether it’s the contortions of a demonic birdsong preluding ‘Bad Kids to the Front’ or the eagerly anticipated encore – inspiration for another comedic insight into Saunier’s mind [see appendix] – of ‘There’s That Grin’ and ‘Come See the Duck’, we are all honoured to bear witness to – and in the final case, participate in – an encapsulating performance so supreme.

Appendix: “It may appear as though we were stalling, just seeing the maximum width to which our heads could expand. In fact, 99% of the time we were gone we were just trying to figure out how to get the curtain back open – it’s Velcro-ed very tight.”

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A little characteristically late, the eponymous and cantankerous Eugene Capper took to the stage as first on the bill of the evening joined by lo-fi Americana aficionado Rhodri Brooks with support, as if often the case with Capper’s ever changing suffix ‘and Band’.

His is a blend of whatever he darn well feels like on the night, it would seem, varied and often conflicting genres in a gentle tug of war. The light and lackadaisical interaction with the crowd and bandmates colours the performance and feels like a bit of a performance itself; a little wry and sarcastically clichéd. Most impressive though is Eugene’s multi-instrument abilities – no matter the switch between genre or style, each song is richly layered and almost prog-like in progression.

After a brief interlude, Rhodri Brooks takes the stage with Eugene supporting, just to confuse us. The two complement one another nicely, Brooks’ languid Americana proving a well-considered accompaniment to Capper and Band’s unique brand of folk. ‘Intro (Herwgipio)’ is a psychedelic and melancholic drawl of an opener, while ‘Fold Me’ showcases an unhurried yet carefully considered style both cloying and relatable. And toe-tappingly good.

Both supports provide that particular branch of psychedelica that can only be rooted in Wales and set up HMS Morris nicely. Making waves in the same vein as Peski Records electronica peers Plyci and R Seiliog, this is catchy dreamscape electro pop at its catchiest.

Heledd’s bewitching vocals slice through the swirling synths and Wil’s lush percussion and Sam’s live-sampled ethereal voice backing on the loping and brooding ‘Gormod o Ddyn’. ‘Shipping Forecast’ smacks ever so slightly and infectiously of kraut-rock, before breaking down slowly but surely and ‘Aur (Gold)’ encompasses the band’s sound succinctly; a captivating and cinematic style.

All three will also be playing at Chapter Arts Centre on Tuesday 17th for ‘Overboard’, a gig fundraiser for The Boat Studio. The first of its kind in Wales, artists Ellie Young and Amber Mottram hope to transform a canal boat into a floating and adaptable art space that hosts residencies, exhibitions, gigs and performances. More information at www.theboatstudio.org